


Goes Unpunished

by eightofcoins



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M, Feels bad, Homophobia, I am a very bad person, Smut, Spoilers, dubcon, noncon, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightofcoins/pseuds/eightofcoins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>Prompt</b>
  <br/><i>this kinkmeme is about fifty gazillion pages long and I haven't read them all (working on it!) so hopefully this isn't a repeat but I don't think we're oversaturated with it either.<br/>My sick self would love- you know what, I'm just gonna spoiler white this whole thing, since the anime is still going- evil!Adachi noncon (or dubcon) with one of the main girls. With his attitude towards women I'm actually a bit surprised I haven't found any of this yet.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <a href="http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/543.html?thread=912927#t912927">http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/543.html?thread=912927#t912927</a>
</p>
<p>---</p>
<p><b>Warnings:</b> Dubcon, noncon, IC homophobia, spoilers.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Goes Unpunished

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
> _this kinkmeme is about fifty gazillion pages long and I haven't read them all (working on it!) so hopefully this isn't a repeat but I don't think we're oversaturated with it either.  
>  My sick self would love- you know what, I'm just gonna spoiler white this whole thing, since the anime is still going- evil!Adachi noncon (or dubcon) with one of the main girls. With his attitude towards women I'm actually a bit surprised I haven't found any of this yet._
> 
> <http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/543.html?thread=912927#t912927>
> 
> \---
> 
> **Warnings:** Dubcon, noncon, IC homophobia, spoilers.

He hates his job sometimes.  
  
Well, no, that’s a lie.  
  
He hates his job all the time.  
  
Still, there are a few good things about it. The weight of the gun he keeps in his shoulder holster feels just right, even though he never gets to use it outside of the shooting range. But even better than that is the badge.  
  
All it takes is a little flash of the badge and some bullshit story to get free rein to the Amagi Inn that afternoon.  
  
“Hi, I’m from the Inaba police and I’ve been sent to guard Yamano-san from those jokers outside.” He jerks his thumb to the pack of hungry journalists just outside the lobby entrance.  
  
The frumpy-looking waitress he talks to says that Yamano’s staying in suite 303 and offers to show him the way, but he doesn’t want to look at her face any longer than he has to, so he tells her he can find the way around himself.  
  
He smoothes his wrinkled suit jacket and straightens his tie just outside the door of 303, clears his throat, and knocks unevenly. There’s no answer, so he knocks again and again, louder and longer until his knuckles are sore.  
  
Just his luck. He wonders just how the hell Yamano manages not to be in her room. Isn’t she supposed to be hiding? It’s too early for the Inn’s baths to be open. The lobby is the only real indoor public space in the Inn and he would’ve seen her as he came in. She must have snuck out the back somehow, maybe to see that Namatame guy the news was crowing about.  
  
He doesn’t know what’s more annoying: That the rumors about Yamano being a whore might be true, or that those stupid journalists are too dumb to keep her bottled up for him.  
  
As he stomps down the hall to leave, he’s too lost in his own poisonous thoughts to notice that he’s about to walk right into a girl in a pink _kimono_. It’s only at the last second that he catches himself and stops awkwardly in front of her.  
  
She takes a step back from him, bows, and says, “Excuse me, sir, but may I ask you to please make less noise?” She bows again. “Thank you.”  
  
A familiar twinge of irritation rises in his throat and he would love to tell this girl off, but he bites his tongue as usual and simply mumbles, “Sorry, didn’t know I was disturbing anyone.”  
  
The girl blandly accepts his false apology. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”  
  
She’s very pretty in a traditional way, and he daydreams about all sorts of things he’d like her to help him with. When she coughs quietly to get his attention politely, he decides to go with something practical.  
  
“Uh, yeah. I’m Detective Adachi with the Inaba police and I’m here to guard Yamano-san.” He flips out his badge and feels irritated again when the girl seems unimpressed by it. “She doesn’t seem to be in her room, have you seen her recently?”  
  
“I’m sorry, no.”  
  
“Do you know when she might be back?”  
  
“No.”  
  
A fat lot of help the girl is. He feels the irritation rise higher and makes no attempt to hide it.  
  
She catches this and says, “I’m very sorry, sir. Is there anything else?”  
  
At first, he’s not sure. Since it’s his day off, he could just go home, but there isn’t anything else to do in the dump that is his apartment. There isn’t anything else to do in this dump of a town, either. Maybe Yamano would be back soon. In that case, it’d be worth waiting at the Inn. It’s boring, but a hell of a lot nicer than his apartment.  
  
“Hey, is there an empty room or something that I can wait for Yamano-san in?”  
  
“Um, I’m not sure if you would be allowed to stay in a room without paying...”  
  
Cheap little bitch. “Come on, kid, it’s not like I’m staying the night. I just want somewhere to sit down while I’m waiting for Yamano-san to come back.”  
  
“Well...”  
  
He puts on his most winning grin, the one that’s a little too wide. “Think of it as a special favor for the Inaba police.”  
  
Mentioning the force seems to work.  
  
She’s a good, well-bred Japanese girl, so she defers to authority just like she should.  
  
“Um, there’s an empty room at the end of the hall, sir. I suppose if I waited with you, it would be fine.”  
  
Wait with him? What, did she think he’d steal the towels or something? He’s a policeman for crying out loud! If it weren’t that he needed to stay on her good side, he would definitely tell her off.  
  
But all he says is, “Sure, that sounds great.”  
  
“Follow me, sir.”  
  
At least he can enjoy the view. She has a cute little ass that fills out the _kimono_ just right and she rhythmically swings her hips as she gracefully shuffles down the hall, the fucking tease.  
  
The room that he follows her into would probably cost him an entire paycheck for one night’s stay. He decides to make the best of the situation and sprawls out on a futon that hasn’t been cleared away yet. A few meters away, she kneels on the _tatami_ in perfect _seiza_ and watches him in silence, like she’s just another piece of expensive furniture.  
  
While he’s glad that she’s not like those gossipy housewives that infest the shopping district, he is unnerved by the girl’s unwavering silence. After fifteen minutes stretch past, even he is desperate for small talk.  
  
“Aren’t you a little young to be working? Shouldn’t you be in school?”  
  
“My parents own the Inn and need me to help out from time to time.”  
  
“So you’re an Amagi, huh?” That explains why she’s so protective of the place. “Gonna take over some day?”  
  
She hesitates and looks out the window. “Yes, some day,” she says flatly.  
  
Her hesitation gets to him. Ingrateful little bitch. Is inheriting the only good thing in this shitty little town _that_ beneath her? The Amagi Inn is the pride of Inaba, or some crap like that, and it’s pretty clear that the Amagis are damn loaded because of it. Hell, her allowance is probably more than what he takes home on payday.  
  
“You sure don’t sound too happy about it.”  
  
That gets a rise out of her. He’s relieved that she’s not some sort of robot.  
  
“N-No! Of course I’m happy, the Inn has been in our family for generations...” She trails off without really explaining anything, and he actually feels a little sorry for her. She’s stuck here, too, just like him.  
  
“Ha, I guess I can’t blame you for getting cold feet. You probably want to get out of this town like every other kid.”  
  
She flushes, but remains silent. He must’ve hit a nerve.  
  
“Yeah, it’s a lot more exciting in the city,” he continues. “I’m from Tokyo, born and bred.”  
  
“I’ve never been to Tokyo,” she says quietly.  
  
“You should go someday, it’s a lot a fun,” he says. It may be noisy and crowded and expensive, but it sure beats this crappy town, he thinks.  
  
There’s a long pause between them before the girl finally responds. “It must be nice to be just another nameless face.”  
  
“Eh? That’s a weird thing to think about, kid. Most people want to be famous, y’know?”  
  
She blushes and clams up again. He actually feels a little bad for embarrassing her.  
  
“I guess you’ve got a point, though,” he says, trying to agree with her. “Look at Yamano. Fame can be rough, kid. You wouldn’t want your family to be part of a scandal, right?”  
  
“But we have nothing to do with Yamano-san!”  
  
He shakes his head and sighs. Of course he would have to explain the obvious to her.  
  
“I didn’t mean this one, kid. I mean like, maybe you’ve been serving liquor to underage guests. Or maybe your folks have been cheating on their taxes, I dunno. Lots of things that the police or the press might look into and would be bad for the reputation of the Amagis. Understand?”  
  
She nods, wide-eyed.  
  
The air hangs heavy between them and it seems like there’s nothing left to say after that. The girl looks lost in thought, mulling over what he’s just said. Old families always have skeletons they can’t seem to bury, and an old family like the Amagis from a small town like Inaba probably has them hidden all over their Inn.  
  
He closes his eyes and tries to take a nap, but knowing that she’s watching him gives him the creeps. He’s desperate to fill the silence with something, anything, but what the hell do teenage girls like to talk about?  
  
“Hey, do you have a boyfriend?”  
  
“Wh-What? Um, no, no I don’t.”  
  
“Huh, would’ve figured a pretty girl like you would be popular.”  
  
“I... I don’t think I’m popular. Chie says I am, but I...” she trails off, embarrassed.  
  
He knows her type. Pretty and pure and perfect. They might act all modest, but deep down, girls like her think they’re better than everyone. He’d been shot down by enough bitches like her in middle school and high school and university. This one is probably a real heartbreaker, with dozens of decent guys like him left shattered in her wake.  
  
“C’mon, I bet you’ve got tons of boys falling over themselves for you. Give ‘em a chance.”  
  
“I-I’m not very good with talking to boys.”  
  
“You’ll have to talk with them if you want a boyfriend.”  
  
“I-I don’t want a boyfriend.”  
  
“What, are you into girls?” he jokes.  
  
From the way she just stares at the floor and blushes, he must’ve hit a nerve.  
  
“You’re into this Chie girl?” he guesses.  
  
From the way she just stares at the floor and goes totally red, he must’ve hit the nail on the head.  
  
It fucking figures. No wonder guys didn’t have a chance anymore if all the hot girls were goddamn dykes. It was one thing when lesbians were sour, ugly chicks who no guy would want anyway, but when pretty, traditional girls like her are taking themselves off the market... It’s enough to make his blood boil.  
  
Someone needs to straighten her out.  
  
Why not him?  
  
He hasn’t heard so much as a peep from the room next to theirs or from any of the maids.  
  
Why not now?  
  
“Have you told her? Or your parents?”  
  
“Wh-What? N-No, that’s... It’s not like that, I’m not a les-- I’m not in love with her...” she stammers.  
  
He’s found a skeleton.  
  
“Hey, you can be honest with me.” He smiles. “Your secret’s safe with me, kid.”  
  
She sighs with relief.  
  
“But like I was saying, there’s all sorts of embarrassing things that the police might find out about your family if we looked hard enough. You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”  
  
Confused, she frowns and nods slowly.  
  
“No, of course not,” he agrees. “I could make sure the police never think about looking, in exchange for something.”  
  
“Wh-What do you want?”  
  
He gets up off the futon and sits down next to her on the _tatami_. She flinches, but doesn’t try to leave.  
  
“Take your clothes off,” he says smoothly.  
  
“N-No!”  
  
He puts on his most winning grin, the one that’s a little too wide. “Think of it as a special favor for the Inaba police.”  
  
“I-I said no!”  
  
He shrugs and tries to play it cool. “Alright, kid, if you want the police to come crawling all over your Inn, that’s your choice.”  
  
She stands and shuffles to the door.  
  
“I’m sure _you_ haven’t done anything that might embarrass your family, right?”  
  
She puts her hand on the door.  
  
“Maybe we should ask Chie?” he sneers.  
  
She pulls her hand away from the door and brings it close to her chest.  
  
“P-Please, don’t,” she begs weakly.  
  
“You know what you have to do.”  
  
He licks his lips unconsciously as she resigns herself to the price she must pay, as she realizes that the world isn’t some fairy tale with last minute rescues and happy endings.  
  
She’s a good, well-bred Japanese girl, so she defers to authority just like she should.  
  
The _tabi_ are the first to go, unsurprisingly. Shaky hands pick at the _obi_ knot. Her whole body sways and shakes as she grabs onto the collar of her _kimono_. After a few false starts, the _kimono_ slides off her shoulders and drops to the floor. She freezes, arms across her chest and eyes closed, as if he couldn’t see her if she couldn’t see him.  
  
“Panties, too,” he reminds her.  
  
Keeping one arm clamped to her chest, she uses the other to tug down her white panties. After she awkwardly steps out of them, she presses her thighs tight together and tries to cover herself with her hands, but there’s nowhere to hide from his eyes.  
  
She’s all silky hair and fair skin and graceful neck and perky boobs and skinny waist and tight ass and curvy hips and long legs and natural beauty, a beauty that is so much better than the false idols and fake porn stars he’s used to. He honestly didn’t think they made girls like her anymore, and for a fleeting instant even he is ashamed for what he’s about to do, but then the next heartbeat thumps in his chest and it’s forgotten.  
  
“Oh ho, what’s this? Keeping yourself smooth for when Chie goes muff-diving?” he smirks as his eyes linger on her hairless pussy.  
  
She blushes brightly all over. Red’s a good color on her, he thinks, it suits her.  
  
“Lie down on the futon.”  
  
She lays on her back, stiff as a board, futilely trying to preserve her modesty, but there’s nothing modest about the way he paws her boobs, pinches her nipples, and fondles her slit. Part of him is disappointed that she doesn’t put up more of a fight, and she just lays there while he manhandles her. Tears stream from her shut eyes.  
  
“You’re awfully wet for someone who’s never have a boyfriend. You sure you haven’t done this before?”  
  
She nods once, almost imperceptibly. He sticks a finger up into her anyway, feels her pristine tightness, and marvels at his good fortune. She shivers uncontrollably.  
  
“Hehe, I guess not,” he chuckles as he pulls his finger out with a flourish.  
  
 He runs his hands up her legs, pinches her ass, and nudges her thighs.  
  
“Spread ‘em.”  
  
She’s a good, well-bred Japanese girl, so she defers to authority just like she should.  
  
She offers no resistance when he climbs on top of her, pulls down his pants, and centers the tip of his dick against the entrance of her pussy. He has her spread out wide, totally at his mercy, but he doesn’t start in just yet. It’s not enough for him.  
  
“Beg for it.”  
  
She looks at him dumbly.  
  
“Beg me to fuck you,” he growls.  
  
“P-Please...”  
  
“Please what?”  
  
“P-Please... fuck me...” she whispers under her breath.  
  
“Remember, kid, you asked for it,” he chuckles, and then he rams himself into her virgin pussy.  
  
This is the greatest moment in his life, feeling her hotness and tightness and wetness wrapped around his dick, and seeing her blushing cheeks and glittering tears and heaving breasts, and hearing her ragged breaths and chattering teeth and strained cries.  
  
He almost comes just from sticking it in, but he’s able to hold back, barely.  
  
The temptation to fuck her fast is nearly irresistible, but he masters himself and goes slow, to savor what will probably be a once-in-a-lifetime treat. It’s been a lifelong dream of his to pop a girl’s cherry, but none of the bitches he’s ever fucked had saved themselves for him like the girl he’s fucking now. Not even his first girlfriend in high school, the whore. No wonder they only lasted a month together. Ever since, he’s had to settle for loose sluts who spread their legs for anything that moved.  
  
But today is his lucky day.  
  
Her pussy is a vise, and every probing centimeter forward feels like a victory. He’s always been proud of how big his dick is, a full twenty-and-a-half centimeters from tip to base, and nice and fat and thick. The lucky bitches that he’s fucked always complain about how much it hurts, how he doesn’t fit, how he’s tearing them apart, but he could tell they were lying. Bitches always lie. They loved it, screamed for it, and he gave it to them good, better than they deserved.  
  
The girl under him doesn’t scream. Instead, she just keeps her eyes closed tight, grabs fistfuls of the futon, bites her lower lip, and tries desperately to steady her breathing. All her muscles tense to the rhythm of his thrusts, bracing her to endure the steady pulse of pain. She’s trying to escape, to beat the system, which injures his professional pride as a policeman, so he drags her back to the prison of the moment.  
  
“Look at me!” he barks.  
  
She’s a deer in headlights.  
  
“Admit you’re a slut!” he snarls.  
  
“I-I’m... a slut...” she whispers through clenched teeth.  
  
“You love being fucked!”  
  
“I-I love... being fucked...”  
  
“You wanna be fucked harder!”  
  
“F-Fuck me... h-harder...”  
  
He pauses and grins toothily. “Remember, kid, you asked for it.”  
  
He tosses her trembling legs over his shoulders, tightens his hands around her squirming hips, and then spears his dick down into her with his full weight behind it.  
  
Now she screams, but in a tight, muted, controlled way. He’s sure she knows that she can’t call for help or else her whole world will come tumbling down, but part of him thinks that she’s too much of a professional to disturb any of the guests. Her parents trained her well, and he’s grateful to them. Not enough parents teach their daughters to be ladies nowadays.  
  
He pounds her faster and harder and deeper, faster and harder and deeper, faster and harder and deeper, and she bucks and she writhes and she struggles underneath him, and it makes it all the sweeter when his dick slams into her cervix and her pussy squeezes even tighter around him. There’s no way he can hold on for much longer, and even she can see it. The bitch is a quick study.  
  
“Please...” she whimpers pathetically. “Not inside... Not inside... Please don’t come inside me...”  
  
He’d love nothing more than to blow his load inside just to spite her, but the last thing he needs is knocking up some high school slut. Reluctantly, he pulls his dick out of her pussy, but only after a few last ferocious thrusts that hurt even him. As he stands, seeing her lie there, breathless and boneless, sends a satisfied shiver down his spine. A good craftsman always takes pride in his work.  
  
And there’s still more work to be done. He pulls her up to her knees by grabbing a big fistful of her long, silky hair. Even now she kneels in perfect _seiza_ , like she doesn’t know any other way do it.  
  
“You’ve got a big mouth, kid. Time to use it.”  
  
His slippery dick slides past her quivering lips easily. He doesn’t even bother to warn her not to bite, because he knows the thought will never occur to her. And even if it does, he knows she doesn’t have the fire for it. The back of her gagging throat tickles the tip of his dick each time he pumps into her hot, wet mouth, and it doesn’t take long before he comes.  
  
It’s been a good while since he’s had any action, so he feels like he must’ve shot half a liter of cum against the back of her throat, jet after slimy jet. She squirms and tries to pull away from him, but his grip on her hair is too strong and he holds her head tight against him as he empties himself into her mouth.  
  
“Swallow!”  
  
She’s a good, well-bred Japanese girl, so she defers to authority just like she should.  
  
“Make sure you get every drop.”  
  
Her tongue comes to life and licks him clean, hesitantly at first, but then quickly and steadily and thoroughly. Maybe she loves the taste of cum, the whore. Maybe she just wants to get it over fast. It doesn’t matter to him either way, because even though she has no fancy technique, he’s found heaven and it’s inside her mouth.  
  
When his dick finally, mercifully goes limp, he pulls out, bringing with him a thick stream of drool that dribbles down her chin as she eagerly gasps for fresh air. He pulls up his pants and, feeling generous, pats her on the head.  
  
“Tasty, right?”  
  
She nods weakly.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
Even after he’s done with her, she just kneels there with her back to the window, staring at the floor, like she’s just another piece of expensive furniture.  
  
“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”  
  
He pulls her up by the arm, drags her over to the private bathroom, and sits her on the toilet. Using a wad of wet paper napkins, he roughly wipes her cum-smeared mouth and bleeding pussy clean, then flushes the evidence away. She winces when he scrubs the paper against both pairs of tender, violated lips, but she doesn’t make a sound.  
  
“Does it hurt?” he asks, out of curiosity rather than concern.  
  
Annoyingly, she doesn’t respond one way or the other, staring blankly through tears at him instead. If she’s trying to make him feel guilty about what happened, it doesn’t work because there’s nothing to feel guilty about. It’s her own goddamn fault.  
  
“Remember, kid, you asked for it.”  
  
When he’s done, she leans over the sink and washes her face and rinses her mouth with frigid water from her cupped hands. Her teeth chatter and her legs wobble, but she keeps washing and rinsing and washing and rinsing and washing and rinsing, until all the color is drained from her face.  
  
When she’s done, he follows her back into the room to help her dress.  
  
She slips a thick pad of folded tissues under the front of her panties so that the slow, thin trickle of blood from her pussy won’t stain them. She slides one arm into a sleeve of her _kimono_ that he holds up for her, then the other arm, then wraps the silk snug around herself. She has him hold her _obi_ still while she knots it tight in front, then turns it around her waist so the knot’s behind her. She methodically smoothes her hair with her trembling hands in front of a mirror, staring all the while through her reflection to some distant land behind the glass.  
  
“Why the long face, kid? You should be happy, you’re a _real_ woman now. Congratulations.”  
  
She nearly bursts into tears again, but manages to contain herself.  
  
When she’s settled down, she folds the futon and blankets and tidies up the rest of the room. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes under her practiced hands. When she’s done, it’s like they were never there. Future guests would never know that here a girl became a woman and a man became a monster. Then she opens the door and walks out without any further ceremony.  
  
He escorts her down to the lobby where the frumpy-looking waitress is waiting for her. The girl refuses the arm he offers her to lean on, preferring to walk gingerly on her own two feet, the traditional shuffling steps smaller and daintier than ever, but she never stops or complains.  
  
He wants to make sure she’ll keep her mouth shut and he knows from experience that telling lies is easy once you start. He wants to make sure she’ll tell the first one.  
  
“There you are, Yukiko-chan!” says the waitress.  
  
Yukiko, huh? So the girl’s name is Yukiko. It’s a pretty name.  
  
“W-Were you looking for me, Kasai-san?”  
  
“Yes, your mother needs you to walk into town and pick up some tofu from Marukyu.”  
  
“Of course. Right away.”  
  
While Yukiko and Kasai walk off, he overhears some of their small talk.  
  
“What did that policeman want?” asks Kasai.  
  
“Nothing... We just talked for a little while,” says Yukiko.  
  
He smiles. She’s a good liar.  
  
Just before she leaves, Yukiko turns around and looks daggers at him, blunted daggers that make him feel invincible. She’s angry and hurt and broken, but he knows from her dull eyes that she’ll never tell a soul about her newfound shame. She’ll just bottle it up with all the other secrets she keeps deep inside, where no one will ever see.  
  
As he settles back into the sofa in the lobby and starts watching TV, he has to admit to himself that Yukiko has renewed his faith in women. She knows her place. She knows her duty. She knows her limits.  
  
She’s a good, well-bred Japanese girl.  
  
Maybe Mayumi Yamano will be as good as Yukiko Amagi.  
  
Later that night in the empty lobby of the Inn, he finds out.  
  
And he is sorely disappointed.  
  
 _Fin_


End file.
